it all depends so much on the knowingas if the clinging itself would save you—should holding prove itself inadequateand release prove the impossible whole a stone falls not demanding its meaningand the bird must be held to the breeze—fingers recalling a charmed slack of threadthe light passing through, unraveling vision ache is your body surrendering its bordersopen palms, soft geometry, inward home—absence without calculus, knots … Continue reading Hissing of the Feathered Thread by Gregory O’Neill

We leave our souls like luggage—bodies like garment bags.In the bat‑black clock hours,we usher meteors,like tiny golden pins up the ivoryheights the day calls clouds. Children’s buckets at our hips jinglewhen they kiss—dream‑power makes us taller.Nightgowns and PJs sweeping like flags.Slippers loosen jangly baubles of frozen rain. A hundred million assemble themselvesinto a backup band for the universe.Sounds arrive that other minds might callinterference—or harmony. … Continue reading The Night Out by Gregory O’Neill